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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24100366">In the Back Seat</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazulibundtcake/pseuds/lazulibundtcake'>lazulibundtcake</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley's Bentley (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Love, M/M, Pining, Post-Canon, Post-Scene: Church in London 1941 (Good Omens), Sex in the Bentley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 23:47:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>498</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24100366</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazulibundtcake/pseuds/lazulibundtcake</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>He wasn’t sure, really, that it was a good idea, but he found he couldn’t want differently.  Not with Crowley talking a mile a minute, opening the door and waving him in, mouth twitching in pleasure as he watched him settle into the passenger’s seat.</em>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>186</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Name That Author Round 3: After Dark</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>In the Back Seat</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for the Name That Author Round 3: After Dark event.<br/>500 words or less.<br/>Prompt: "This better not awaken anything in me."</p>
<p>I am <em>delighted</em> by every work written for this event and was so happy to be part of it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had all been a bit much for Aziraphale.</p>
<p>The unexpected glimpse of Crowley’s bare eyes through the floating dust of the explosion; the slide of their fingers against each other on the handle of the bag; the dark narrow swagger of his shoulders and hips as he walked towards the ruined doorway.</p>
<p>And then, the car.  Aziraphale had never been in it before; had not yet entered that narrow dim space.</p>
<p>He wasn't sure, really, that it was a good idea, but he found he couldn't want differently.  Not with Crowley talking a mile a minute, opening the door and waving him in, mouth twitching in pleasure as he watched him settle into the passenger’s seat.  Not with Aziraphale feeling, as he did, entirely blown open.</p>
<p>He wanted him there, always, after that.  In that soft in-between place where they breathed the same air, rich with the scent of leather and of Crowley.  Where he could steal glances at the planes of his face as he drove, at his long legs splayed slightly open, his wide restless hands gripping the wheel.</p>
<p>And then, finally.</p>
<p>“I want you in me,” he had said, breathless against his lips.</p>
<p>“Shall we get home then?”</p>
<p>“No." Whispering.  “Here, please.  If that's alright with you."</p>
<p>Then he was on his lap, the tight coiled length of him squeezed between his thighs.  Had him pressed up against the back seat, tilting his head up and licking down into his mouth. His hair velvet soft and tangled in his fingers, very nearly as short as it had been in 1941.</p>
<p>And Aziraphale didn’t know where his trousers had got to, or Crowley's, but suddenly he was slicked, blossoming open on the hot intensity of his gaze and his strong clever fingers on him, in him; his biceps tightening under Aziraphale's hands as he urged him forward into pleasure.</p>
<p>Then Crowley was squeezing, lifting his ass, guiding him onto his cock as they looked at each other. Breathed.</p>
<p>Aziraphale could never quite believe the amazement on his face, his little puffing breaths as he held still and let Aziraphale sink himself down.  </p>
<p>“<em>Angel</em>," he gasped as he bottomed out, and then Aziraphale was moving, moving in Crowley's car as he had always wanted to, rocking forward and kissing him, blessedly full with his impossible branding heat.</p>
<p>Crowley pressed his face into his shoulder and Aziraphale cradled his head, clutching him, drinking his scent of smoke and wet stone.  His bare knees were sticking to the leather and he pressed a palm flat to the seatback as he rode him, his cries briefly a prayer to the car itself, that had delivered Crowley to him, that had kept him safe.</p>
<p>And he imagined, wildly, the ghosts of their past selves sitting separate in the front seats and wanted to tell his ghost’s aching heart just to be patient, to sit and just wait and it would come, it would come, it would come, it would <em> come </em> –</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><div class="children module" id="children">
  <b class="heading">Works inspired by this one:</b>
  <ul>
    <li>
        <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24678316">The Back Seat</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nymphalis_antiopa/pseuds/Nymphalis_antiopa">Nymphalis_antiopa</a>
    </li>
  </ul>
</div></div></div>
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